


out of time

by orphan_account



Series: drabbles [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 23:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19038190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (tumblr kiss prompt: ...because they’re running out of time.)





	out of time

**Author's Note:**

> it’s angsty time.... 
> 
> enjoy 3:)

“Keith,” Lance croaks weakly, quietly, his throat is scratchy from when he yelled continuously minutes ago.

Keith doesn’t even look up from where he’s trying to stop the bleeding. Honestly, Lance can’t even feel the cut anymore, doesn’t even feel his body at all, which he knows is a bad sign, knows it means he’s running out of blood… He’s running out of blood and he’s running out of  _ time _ .

“Keith,” he tries again, voice a little firmer this time. He needs Keith to stop and look at him, he needs Keith’s attention for himself completely before… “Keith, look at me!”

“Just a minute,” Keith says, and even like this, numb and senseless and half-alive, Lance’s heart aches at the brokenness Keith’s voice carries. “I’ll fix this, Lance, just give me a minute.”

Lance probably doesn’t have a minute, and he knows this painfully well. That’s why, with the last drop of strength he can muster, he lifts his hand up and grips Keith’s wrist as firmly as he can. It seems to get Keith’s attention enough for him to stop fussing over Lance’s wound and look up into his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Lance says.

“McClain, I swear to god I will beat your ass if you give me that crap!” Keith hisses through clenched teeth, words heavy with fear and panic, his eyes starting to well up with fresh tears. Lance hates seeing him this way, but he figures there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Kiss me,” Lance says then, maybe a little desperately, because his grip on Keith’s hand is weakening despite his strong will to keep it firmly there, and the edge of his vision is turning blurry and dotted dark.

“Now’s not really a good time for that, sweetheart,” Keith says, probably trying to maintain a calm and airy voice, but it’s nothing more than shaky and hysterical, and shattered. Lance sees more than he feels Keith pressing down harder on the bleeding wound, looking down at it again.

And Lance doesn’t need him looking down, he needs him leaning close, pushing his lips against his own before he can still feel them.

“Kiss me,” Lance says again. “Keith, please,” he squeezes Keith’s wrist, blinking slowly when his eyelids grow heavier with each passing second. He can sense the world working in slow motion, can realize how everything is becoming less and less real and more like a fuzzy, wobbly dream.

Only it’s not a dream, it’s terribly real and true, which only fuels the aching urge to kiss Keith one last time before it’s too late.

And maybe Keith feels this too, realizes that this is all very real, and maybe he’s burning with the same exact urge as Lance is, craves the same exact heat and warmth, and a proper goodbye. Because he’s looking up at Lance and into his eyes, and even with his unclear vision and complete numbness Lance can still sense the force of Keith’s gaze.

It feels like years before Keith breaks their eye contact, snapping his eyes down at Lance’s lips, and leans forward. Lance breathes out a relieved sigh when he feels one of Keith’s hands slide behind his neck, the other staying atop of his wound, still pressing down as strongly as ever. Lance can’t really lift his head up or lean forward to meet Keith’s lips, so he awaits before the other boy closes the gap between them, carefully sticking his mouth to Lance’s in a way that’s soft and urgent at the same time.

It tastes like blood and feels like ice, but Lance cherishes each moment of their kiss—possibly but hopefully,  _ God, hopefully, _ not their last kiss. Lance doesn’t think of that, though, instead he thinks of how Keith’s breath is infinitely warmer than his own skin, how Keith’s lips are chapped from the long mission but soft against his own, and how his jaw moves like a broken dance, how there’s a bitter taste of dread on Keith’s tongue.

Keith’s sob-like huff is what breaks them apart and what peels Lance’s eyes open once again.

“It’ll be… it’ll be okay, Keith,” Lance whispers; somehow, talking is a lot harder than it was a minute ago. Or was it ten minutes ago? He’s not sure, time doesn’t feel right when his body is being drained from blood. “The… the team’s on its way. I’ll be okay.”

Keith shakes his head, some of the strings from his bangs stick to his forehead, wet with sweat and dark with smoke smudge. His eyes are red and his mouth is twisted into a sad little frown. Lance wants to wipe it away, wipe the sweat away and the black smudge and that awful, agonizing expression from his face.

“I—I have to press down at the cut,” Keith says, retrieving his hand from Lance’s neck to the wound again. “Shiro said to press down, and I’m—I  _ am _ and it won’t  _ stop _ and I’m  _ pressing down _ —“

“Hey,” Lance says, or slurs, or just breathes out as a sigh. It doesn’t matter how he says it, Keith’s looking at him again and that’s all Lance needs. “Under the night sky... there are three little stars,” Lance sings as much as his scratchy throat and heavy tongue will allow him to. It’s the lullaby Lance’s mother used to sing to him, and the lullaby Lance sings to Keith whenever he can’t sleep at night.

Lance wait for Keith to continue the next part, waits for his eyes to stop being so horrified and wide with terror. Keith’s shoulders slump down only the slightest bit, and he inches closer to lean his forehead against Lance’s. Keith’s eyes shut close, letting drops of tears fall down on his cheeks and Lance’s chest, and his mouth starts moving, forming words Lance can no longer hear. He doesn’t need to hear it, knows exactly what Keith is saying, remembers the way his voice gets low and raspy when he sings.

Keith’s mouth slowly disappears into the approaching darkness and Lance can no longer feel the comforting weight against his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> this WAS sad and all bUT, i didn’t clarify lance’s death so... go wild with your imagination!
> 
> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://yourfriendlyneighborsam.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/frendlysam) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/friendlyneighborsam/) (i post tiny drabbles on ig)


End file.
